


This Fabled Street

by FlippingAndTurningTables



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Canon Divergence, Cuddles, Fluff, Humor, Love, M/M, Marriage, Not Really Canon Compliant, Romance, date, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9514064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlippingAndTurningTables/pseuds/FlippingAndTurningTables
Summary: Tell me what you think or if there's any mistakes or anything. I love anniversary fics so here ya go!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think or if there's any mistakes or anything. I love anniversary fics so here ya go!

They forgot to close the living room windows last night. Why they were open in the first place, in January, is unknown. All Sherlock can remember is throwing them open dramatically and turning back to John, gesturing wildly. There was... a wine glass in his hand, right? Yes. He had been lecturing John on aerodynamics.  
(He thought. Sherlock actually babbled about the flight patterns of bees for a full hour.)  
That was on his third (second) glass of wine.   
On his fourth glass, he started sobbing.   
John had moved Sherlock's magnifying glass from their bedroom to the kitchen.   
"I'm going to need that magnifying glass." He hiccuped and cried even harder. "To find your heart."  
John poured himself another glass of wine.

\------

Sherlock woke up, his head being used for batting practice apparently. He groaned, specifically at the thick slabs of light slamming into his eyes, but also at the world. Pouting became his primary method of coping. He pouted at his hangover, the absolute horrid cold leeching in from the open windows, and John, who was still asleep. Unspeakably rude.   
Sherlock resolved himself to sulking and decided not to get up to close the windows. Furiously, he cuddled closer to John.   
That's when he remembered what day it was.   
A slow grin spread on his face. 

"John," he murmured. 

No answer.

"John," he murmured louder, and with more force. 

The man himself shifted a bit and then remained still. 

"John," he murmured gently, in a shouting sort of voice. 

John's eyes fluttered, slowly at first, then snapped open when he realized what Sherlock yelling could mean.

Finally. John was finally paying attention to Sherlock, as he always should be. Sherlock fluffed his hair a bit, but tried not to be obvious about it. 

"Hello, gorgeous," John lilted, after he saw that Sherlock wasn't burning down Baker Street.   
(And after he checked under the bed. And after he put the wine glasses back in the kitchen because Sherlock had already been told he couldn't perform experiments with their only wine glasses, we've been over this! And after he closed those damn windows and crawled back into bed.)  
Sherlock wrapped his long legs around John's and sighed.  
"I assume you know what day it is," he began.

John raised his eyebrows, "I can barely remember my name with this bloody headache. What's today?"

Sherlock furrowed his brows, ducking his head into John's chest.   
He mumbled something, cheeks red. 

"I can't hear you, love."

Sherlock sighed again, louder and with more force.   
"Today is January 29th. The 29th of January."

"Right," John laughed, "the poison. The poison for Kuzco."

Sherlock huffed, "January 29th marks the anniversary of the first time we met." He looked into John's eyes. "Today is our anniversary."

John softened, pulling Sherlock closer.   
"I know," he kissed the tip of his nose, "can you believe it?"

"Seven years? No, it feels like it was only yesterday." 

"I can't believe that the first thing you said to me was 'thank you.'"

"It's a good thing you didn't get used to it." 

John grinned, "I suppose we ought to send Stamford a thank you card."

Sherlock hummed, tapping his fingers on John's arm. 

"I've got some ideas for today," he announced. 

"Oh really," John yawned, "lay them on me."

"No." Sherlock sat up abruptly. "It's all going to be a surprise."

It was John's turn to sigh. Leave it to Sherlock to turn their anniversary into a mystery. 

"Can I at least know the dress code?"

Sherlock swung his heels off the bed, "your outfit is already hanging in the closet."  
He grabbed his midnight blue dressing gown and shuffled out of their bedroom.   
John smirked at his retreating back and immediately winced when he began to sit up. He regretted finishing off the wine bottle the night before.   
(They had been celebrating the conclusion of a particularly fascinating case involving three dolls, a stray cat, and a retired tattoo artist.)   
He finally managed to walk over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. Inside was a blue checkered shirt and a grey cable-knit jumper.   
"I wore the jumper the next day, you cock," he muttered, half hoping Sherlock could hear him.   
John pulled on the clothes anyways, knowing it would make Sherlock happy.

\-------

"I know." Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, looking through his microscope, somehow already dressed. 

John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's curls, "know what?"

"You weren't wearing that jumper when we met, but I've decided to celebrate the day after as well. I mean, I didn't sleep that night and I know you didn't either so technically it was all one really long day."

John nodded.

"And it's our own anniversary, we can celebrate it however we like."

"I agree wholeheartedly, Sherlock," John said solemnly, "damn those anniversary rules, damn them!" 

"Glad you see my point of view, John."

"Tea?" 

"Ah!" Sherlock jumped up and slapped John's hand from the kettle. "No tea!" 

"I'm sorry?" John spluttered, " no tea? Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sherlock consoled, "it's just. I've made plans... with Mrs. Hudson. We're having tea with her today."

"Tea with Mrs. Hudson?"

"Yes. She's the landlady of our home together, John. It seemed appropriate that we share today with her."

"Oh," John blinked. "That's rather thoughtful."

Sherlock led John to the top of the stairs, "that's me all over: Mr. Thoughtful." 

John rolled his eyes, "if you say so, babe."

(As the day progressed, John would see that Sherlock is, indeed, Mr. Thoughtful. Babe.) 

\------

Mrs. Hudson opened the door as soon as Sherlock knocked. 

"Oh," she exclaimed through tears, "it's you two!"

"He already knows I arranged this, and if you could keep the crying to a minimum, Hudders, I'd greatly appreciate it. We haven't even walked in."

"I can't help it!" She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "It feels like just yesterday I was showing John around the flat."

Sherlock stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. Mrs. Hudson patted his cheek and hugged John as well. 

"Well," she clapped her hands together, "can't be blubbering when there's tea to drink! Come in, come in!"

\------

They stayed for three hours. (Two longer than Sherlock had planned.)  
Sherlock glanced at his phone during a conversation about Connie Prince. He gasped audibly at the time and rushed towards the door. He ran back to kiss Mrs. Hudson on the cheek.  
"Come along John! Places to be, people to see!"  
He opened the door out onto the sidewalk and bounced around for a bit, waiting for John.   
John leaned towards Mrs. Hudson and, very seriously, said, "thank you. Thank you for being such a huge part in finding me the best boyfriend ever." 

She chuckled, "he's always going to be doing that, isn't he?"

"I'm afraid so," John smirked and stood up. 

"Always dashing about. My husband was just the same."   
Mrs. Hudson looked up at him and winked.

John hurried out of 221A.

\------

Sherlock was waiting for him in a cab, texting.   
John sat down and glanced over at Sherlock's phone. A gloved hand quickly covered the screen.   
"No peeking, John," Sherlock said to the phone screen.   
There was nothing John could do to get information from Sherlock. He sat back and tried to enjoy the ride.   
(Honestly, Sherlock would've told him anything if John gave him a kiss but John thinks Sherlock is more stubborn than he actually is.) 

They arrived at St. Bart's Hospital. John's throat clenched at the sight of the building. Sherlock grabbed his hand and held it tight.   
"I'm here," he hesitated, "we don't have to go in if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine," John insisted, pointedly not looking upwards, "I'm excited to see what you've done next." 

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely," John pressed tight into Sherlock's side.

\------

Sherlock led him into the lab where they first laid eyes on each other.   
John looked around and saw the glimmer of past Sherlock dancing around the room.   
There he was looking at some slides.

("I prefer to text.")

There he was tapping on John's phone.

("Afghanistan or Iraq?")

There he was turning to the door.

("I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.") 

There he was winking at John.

("The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street.")

John laughed, "you tried so hard to impress me. It's cute."

"I did not!" Sherlock wrinkled his nose and sat down on one of the stools. 

"Yes you did." He stepped between Sherlock's legs, kissing him softly. 

"Well." Sherlock cleared his throat. "It appears to have worked."

"Oh, shut up," John said through more kisses.

Sherlock giggled, "as much as I'm enjoying this, we have to go meet Molly. We're going on a coffee date with her and her girlfriend."

"Oh yeah? Where at?"

Sherlock glared up at John, "I'm not telling you. You'll just have to wait."

John opened his mouth to complain, then closed it and cocked his head to the side. Loud footsteps were sounding from the hallways, coming closer to the lab room.   
Lestrade burst in, panting.

"I've got one for you, Sherlock," he gasped, "you too John. Can you guys come?"

John glanced over at Sherlock.  
"Well actually-"

"We'd love to help, Geoffrey," Sherlock interjected.

"It's Greg," Lestrade frowned.

"Where do you need us?"

"Follow me," he instructed and turned back to run out of the hospital. 

Sherlock and John looked at each other. 

"Got your breath back?"

"Ready when you are," John answered.

Sherlock grasped John's hand and they ran after Lestrade.

\------

He led them to Angelo's. 

Angelo's. Where they sat down and talked to each other. Where they studied each other, purple and pink light streaming in from the windows. 

(Their first date.)

John stood in front of the restaurant, holding Sherlock closer to him.  
He could hear laughter flitting through the air, intertwined with the lilting music that danced through the cracked open door. 

Lestrade stood in front and raised his arms. "You two coming? Can't miss your own party!"

Everyone was there. Mrs. Hudson hugged them both as soon as they walked in, Molly kissed their cheeks and wiped tears from her eyes, Mycroft nodded at them. 

"Well, here we are boys," Lestrade beamed, "back at the start."

Anderson clapped Sherlock's back, "seems like only yesterday, doesn't it Sherlock?"

Sherlock stiffened. "Yes. Yes it does."

Mike Stamford stepped forward. 

"Mike!" John hooked an elbow around his shoulders. "Good to see you, mate."

(John decided not to mention that they saw each other the week before, at a pub quiz over James Bond.) 

"It's been too long," Mike agreed.

(They came in last place.)

Mike turned to Sherlock, "how ya doing there?"

Sherlock mumbled an answer, suddenly interested in Mycroft's umbrella.

(Sherlock was also at the pub quiz.)

Mike smirked and left to go speak with Molly and Hopkins. 

"Attention everyone," a voice rang out in the restaurant. 

Sherlock took a deep breath, smiling softly.

Angelo walked out from the kitchen, a toothy grin spread over his face. 

"Today is a very important day," he continued, "and I would like all of us to listen to one of greatest men I've ever met, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock blushed and moved to the center of the room, dragging John by his sleeve. 

He placed John in front of him, willing himself to be calm. His eyes were shining with tears.

John grabbed Sherlock's hand, "you okay?"

He nodded, wiping his eyes.

"John," Sherlock began, "John Watson. There are no words to describe the enormity of your friendship or the effect that it has had on me. We may have progressed our relationship but at its core we are still two men racing through the streets of London, blood pumping and giggling the whole way. I will always remember the moment we met, and every day after that that I spent with you. My whole world narrowed to include you, and only you."  
He turned to everyone else and grimaced, "no offense."  
"Today we are surrounded by all of our friends," he continued, "these people helped us through everything. Every moment, every misstep, every adventure. These incredibly patient, and sometimes not so patient, people in our lives have done so much that I brought all of them here to witness the beginning of a new chapter. In this metaphor our time together is documented in a book series. So maybe we've actually ended one book and we're starting another. It doesn't matter."

Sherlock got down on one knee. John shook his head and laughed, already crying as well. 

"John Hamish Watson," Sherlock announced.

John rolled his eyes. 

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my husband?"

John opened his mouth and then closed it.   
He tried again. 

"Yes," he whispered, "of course I will marry you, you beautiful man."

Sherlock paused, "really?"

"Yes," John cried, "yes!"  
He grabbed the collar of Sherlock's shirt and pulled him up into a kiss. 

"I love you," John told Sherlock.

"I love you too."

Lestrade and Mike whooped loudly.   
Mrs. Hudson reached forward and hugged them again. 

"My Baker Street boys," she wept.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, "seriously, thank you."

"Anytime dear," she vowed, "and anything. I will always be here to help you two."

Sherlock kissed her cheek, then hurriedly threw his arms over John's shoulders. 

"We're engaged," he shouted, sea glass eyes glittering. 

John kissed the side of his mouth, wrapping his hand in Sherlock's curls. 

(He wasn't able to plant a full kiss on his lips, as Sherlock kept flouncing about excitedly.) 

John looked over to Mike, Molly and Hopkins, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Anderson, Mycroft. 

(Anthea was there too, but not really because she was on her phone.)

Angelo was handing out champagne to everyone, chortling as he recounted his version of Sherlock and John's first date. 

(Sexual tension. Sexual tension everywhere.)

John made Sherlock stand still and gave him a proper kiss. 

"I love you, John. And I'm never going to stop," Sherlock confessed. 

John rubbed his hand against Sherlock's cheekbones. "I love you so much, Sherlock. And I'm so happy that you're going to be my husband."

Sherlock bit his bottom lip, "Dinner?"

"Starving."

(And the adventures continued. They continued solving crimes and saving each others lives. Just like they did the day they first met. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Two ridiculous men in love.)


End file.
